


A Handful of Love

by nerdqueenenterprise



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, That's it that's the plot, shrunk!Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/pseuds/nerdqueenenterprise
Summary: Phil does not get woken up by his lover, but not because Chris is an ass.





	A Handful of Love

The alarm clock beeps at him like he’s personally offended it. Phil groans and rolls around, squinting at the red letters. Six ten, the latest he can possibly get up before being late.

Which also raises the question of where the  _ hell  _ Chris is. Obviously not in the bed with Phil - after sleeping in the same bed for some thirty years, you can tell whether your love is in it with you or not - but he better have turned on the coffee machine.

 

He didn’t turn on the coffee machine.

    “Chriiiiis!” Phil complains at the empty apartment.

He checks his comm while the coffee does its thing, already munching away on his breakfast. Chris is obviously not in the apartment, but he’s also not even bothered with texting Phil or leaving him any other kind of message, so wherever he’s gone to, he’ll get at least a snide remark for not telling Phil anything at all and just leaving him. Asshole.

 

There isn’t enough time, so Phil pours the coffee (the entire coffee, because he’s feeling petty, thank you very much) into his travel mugs and grabs his stuff and is on his way, still grumpy because he’s running kind of late and had to scarf down his breakfast and also he didn’t get a good morning kiss or anything.

  
  


Work ends up being hell. Not because there’s some major emergencies, but because people are horrible and Phil would love to sit in a corner and sulk forever.

There’s the old couple who make a huge fuss about why the mobility aid the wife got after her operation wasn’t by this company but by a different company that makes products with the exact same quality and the exact same fit and the exact same functions. There are at least three separate people screaming about how it can’t be that they can see a doctor right now and Martha ends up making Phil go see them so they’ll get off her ass. Turns out they wanted to complain because they hadn’t understood what they were told because they hadn’t listened. 

Then the coffee machine breaks. And then there are all the mountains of paperwork that are waiting for Phil today.

Phil tries texting Chris for, well, just for some emotional support, but there’s no reply. And if he’s honest, that really pisses him off. He’s been with Chris for some thirty years now, and they have certain ways how they do and don’t do things, and one of the big ways to do things is that they’ll at the very least drop a text if they’ll be unavailable for a while, if they suddenly have to leave early in the morning and don’t have the time to wake the other one. Chris just vanishing on him is absolutely not normal and pretty damn rude. And also kind of hurtful, if he’s honest.

 

And then the clock hits eleven am and suddenly everything is nuts. Phil spends the next ten hours on his feet, running to and fro, barely sitting down for lunch sometime, and doing a solid chunk of overtime.

When he finally clocks out and drags himself to his car, his eyes are already trying to fall shut, so he switches on the autopilot and lets himself be chauffeured home through a haze of exhausted disinterest.

 

He kicks his shoes off the second he’s through the door, moaning a little as his achy feet hit the floor without any protection before hanging his jacket up as well.

    “Chris?”

Nothing. Great.

There’s something off about the apartment though. Little objects littered around in really weird patterns, like strategically placed heaps, but with an unexplainable purpose. Phil is suddenly afraid. But it also doesn’t look like someone broke in, and considering how the door locks with thumb prints and an access code, it’s more than unlikely to assume that someone got in. On the other hand, who could’ve - and who would’ve done something like this?

Still, Phil’s stomach is in knots.

And then he hears it. A light whacking sound and a small click.

What the hell?

    “Hello?”

It almost sounds like there’s a tiny voice answering him from the kitchen, but…

Phil rounds the counter and - well. There’s another, larger pile of randomly assorted things, there’s a thin belt that Phil knows is his looped through the handles on the fridge’s door, and there’s… there’s a very tiny human standing on the heap of things, and Phil knows that mop of hair too well.

Mini Chris turns around to eye him and then, in a rather small voice that’s still distinctly manly and Chris but just a lot tinier, says: “Oh thank  _ fuck  _ you’re back, Phil, I’m  _ starving _ !”

    “You’re small,” Phil says helplessly.

    “With a very big hunger, thank you very much. Can we talk about this after you’ve helped me get into the damn fridge?”

Phil gets onto his knees to stare at Chris some more. And yeah, that definitely is Chris - fluffy hair and that hunger frown he gets and beautiful face and chest hair and pecs and slim hips because of course he’s naked. And… really tiny.

    “Can I pick you up?”

    “Anything, Phil, just feed me!”

He wraps his fingers around Chris carefully, because he’s warm and squishy and so tiny. Chris responds by holding on to Phil’s fingers as well, setting a short kiss to his thumb. 

    “Oh my god, you’re so small.”

    “Mhm. And hungry. Did I mention hungry?”

    “And cute.”

    “Hungry, Phil.”

Chris’ face is exactly the same, just… a lot tinier. And he’s so warm in Phil’s hands, like the personal heater he always is.

    “Philip!” Chris whacks him on the hand. Pretty ineffectually, but it does serve to make Phil direct his attention back to him. “Please, I’ve spent the past, what, twenty hours trying to build myself ways to get up to normal human places to get a single bite to eat, which I haven’t had since yesterday’s breakfast, and if you remember we also had sex last night so I’m really, really hungry. Feed me. Something. Anything. I’m going to die of hunger, Phil.” He drapes himself dramatically over Phil’s hand after that, displaying so much of his normal self, that getting up and opening the fridge to feed his ridiculous lover is more of a natural reflex than anything else. 

And yeah, Chris is right, he’s probably starving. Partially his own fault for having refused dinner last night so they could get to the sex more quickly though.

    “So… what would you like? You’re… pretty small after all.”

Chris flops down onto Phil’s hand, pillowing himself on his palm.

    “I don’t know.  _ Anything _ . Please.”

    “Flake of cereal?”

He offers it to Chris, and Chris lunges for it.

    “Thank  _ God _ !”

Chris practically destroys the single flake in under a minute, holding it with both hands and barely chewing.

Then he coughs, because dry cereal is dry. It’s… absolutely adorable. Phil’s heart grows three sizes.

    “Water?”

Chris throws him a look. 

    “Orange juice?”

So Phil pours him a cap of that and then watches Chris lap at it almost like a dog. If dogs had opposable thumbs and lifted their bowls.

Phil cups his hand around Chris’ back to steady him and keep him warm, stroking his shoulders with his thumb.

Chris exhales heavily, wipes his mouth, burps a little and thrusts the bottle cap back at Phil.

    “More!”

  
  
  


So Phil watches him eat, and drink, and eat some more, and drink some more, until Chris collapses on Phil’s palm with a heavy sigh, all sprawled out and round-bellied, clearly approaching a food coma.

    “You happy?”

Chris ‘mmhm’s but doesn’t say anything else.

    “You’re gonna be cold, all naked like that. I should… I’ve got an idea.”

He cups his fingers around Chris and hurries off towards the bedroom, where he gently deposits his tiny lover on one of the cushions, then proceeds to get a sock out of a drawer. A clean sock.

Chris’ eyes are almost completely closed when he comes back.

    “You’re going to need to work with me here, Chrissy.”

    “Is that a sock?”

    “It’s clean.”

    “You’re putting me into a sock.” Chris sounds more awake now.

    “To avoid you getting too cold, yes.”

    “A  _ sock. _ ”

    “Yes, Christopher. A sock.”

Chris rolls his eyes but clambers into the sock, holding it bunched up around his waist.

    “Now what?”

    “Now -” Phil picks him up, Chris vanishing further into the sock. “- I go have dinner, because I’m starving too, and then I’ll have a shower, and then I’ll sleep.”

  
  
  


Chris keeps him company and comes with him to the shower as well, where Phil lets him stand on the shampoo rack and lets him take little blobs of shampoo and body wash out of his hand, and later he helps Chris towel down and offers him some toothpaste to chew on before sticking him back into the sock and carrying him over to the bedroom.

By the time Phil sets him down on his pillow Chril is completely conked out, already snoring softly. Phil locks up and switches the lights off before crawling into bed himself, turning to look at Chris. 

It’s funny how quickly his anger at his love evaporated once he saw the pitiful look on Chris’ face. And of course - whatever happened to Chris, he probably really didn’t have much opportunity to let Phil know what was going on. And also… he is pretty cute at this size. 

Phil reaches out to cup a hand around Chris, who doesn’t even move.

They’ll have to work something out for tomorrow, Phil will have to make something up as to why Chris isn’t coming to work - maybe the flu? - and he’ll have to either take Chris with him, which he can’t because Chris would be coming into chats with patients as well, then, and he isn’t a doctor, and Phil can’t just bring him with him, or he’ll have to leave Chris at home, making sure his love has access to food and drinks and the bathroom…

But that’s definitely something for tomorrow.

He still wishes he had a Chris to hold, though. Sleeping is only half as fun if you’re holding your lover.

  
  


Phil doesn’t know it yet, but he will wake up with Chris hopping up and down on his chest, demanding that Phil wake up because Chris is a disgusting, horrible morning person who wants coffee and breakfast at a time where Phil doesn’t even know how to spell “angiotensin-II-receptor antagonists”.

**Author's Note:**

> short and nonsensical, just how we like it! :D i might write a follow up one day, but... this is it for now!  
> thank you for reading. please leave a comment if you liked it, and come say hi over at [@shroom-boi](http://www.shroom-boi.tumblr.com)!


End file.
